His Wife
by LaurieLovesErik
Summary: Reposted after being accidentally deleted. Christine has been with Erik for four months, but deicdes to escape. Tragedy, with bits of horror. One-Shot.


I had been with him for four months now

I had been with him for four months now. I knew this because of the scratches at the back of my wardrobe, the ones I would make before bed each night.

Only four months, but it still felt like an eternity since that horrible night where I chose the scorpion. Oh, how I wished I had chosen to hop with the grasshopper! At the time, it seemed like the only decision to make; I would save Raoul and countless others at the Opera, and sacrifice myself. I had thought myself noble enough to be content with knowing of the lives I had saved, but four months in Erik's hell had flushed all morality from my mind.

All I knew now was what he chose to tell me. I craved any information; even the smallest detail of life above ground sparked my interest. I had learned not to ask him for anything, for it would only make him angry, though I was never sure why. He would fly into a terrible rage, often forgetting my presence, and screaming at a woman named Madeline. His insanity frightened me, but I was consoled in the fact that I would soon be gone from this earth, and would soon be with my father, and with Raoul. Poor Raoul, he could have avoided all of this! But by proclaiming his love to me, he had sealed his own horrible fate. For, two weeks after I succumbed to Erik, I found Raoul's limp body floating in the lake.

I sat holding his body, sobbing into his clammy chest, screaming for my father and the Angel he had promised me. Erik had allowed me to sit for two days by the lake, crying in a heap. On the third day, though, he had tied bricks to Raoul's body and thrown him back into the lake.

That was the first time I told him I hated him. As I screamed this, Erik's face remained the same, but his voice betrayed him.

"You hate Erik? Ah, but Erik is used to this! He is indifferent to your cries, Madame!" I sobbed harder and tried to push my head under the icy lake water. His powerful arms had pulled me out, and he clung to me, kissing my skirts as I watched in horror.

"Forgive your Erik! He only killed the boy because he had to! The boy would have taken away his Christine…" He was sobbing, his tears melting into the waterlogged hem of my dress. I had not said a word, but wrenched myself out of his grip and ran to my room.

I stayed for four days, refusing all food and drink he offered me. He would come up to my door, and call out to me in his beautiful voice.

"Erik dies not wish for his Christine to become ill…please eat something, Christine!" He would call out lovingly, but I shrank away from the door in horror, as if being in such proximity to him would poison me.

Those days, I would curl up on my bed and wonder what I had done for this to happen to me. The years when I craved my Angel's approval were smothered by fear for the demented monster I resided with. How I wished I could go back to being Raoul's little Lotte, playing our pretty game of being engaged. How I wished to feel his lips on mine again, and to feel as if he would protect me from anything that would try to harm me…

But that would never be a reality. I knew Erik craved my hand in marriage, for I heard him sobbing late at night outside my door, when he thought I was asleep.

"Oh, Christine! Why will you never love Erik? He loves you so much, he would do anything for you…" And then, he would proclaim in a poisonous tone, "You don't love Erik. do you, fickle Christine? You loved him when you could not see his face, when he was still your Angel. But the Angel isn't so pretty now, is he?"

It was these comments that made me drink the potion. When Erik had disappeared to go shopping, I had slipped out of my room by picking the lock with a hairpin. I snuck into his room, where he kept all his potions and various medications. He had showed me this room the first month I had been here.

"Christine, see what your clever Erik has made! A potion to make one happy, another to make one tired… Oh! And this one, this is bottled death!" The passion in his voice made me shrink back against the wall. "This will kill the person who consumes it slowly… Yes, very slowly. It takes two weeks, and then the person is no longer." There had been a loving caress in his voice as he held the bottle, tipping it from side to side as the blue liquid swirled in a mesmerizing way.

Yes, it was this one! I pulled it out from the cabinet, and swallowed the contents in one gulp. As it ran down my throat, I felt a morbid bliss. Soon, all this would be gone… And I would be with the ones I truly loved.

Gone, from the fallen angel who imprisoned me! Gone from his constant rages, and gone from this hell that was his home.

He never suspected anything, since I had replaced the liquid in the glass bottle with one of my many products, and had returned to my room to await Erik's imminent return.

I had done this two weeks ago, to the day, and was eagerly awaiting my reprieve. But before I could die, I would have one last encounter with Erik. Ever since I had taken the potion, I had felt my sanity slipping away, bit by bit…

As I pinned up my hair and applied liberal amounts of rouge and lipstick, I rehearsed what I would do. I chose a dark red, low-cut dress, one that clung to my body.

I opened my door quietly, fearing nothing as I walked calmly down the hall. Whatever happened, it would all be over soon.

He was sitting at his piano, simply staring at it, not playing anything.

"Erik" I said his name slowly, wondering what in the world had possessed me to implement this plan. But there was no going back now. I would be Aminta, the passionate young woman in Erik's terrible Don Juan.

His lips moved soundlessly as I pulled him up to his full height and placed my hands on his shoulder. It was very strange to touch him; he felt bony and stiff under his fine clothing.

"Can it be…?" But I cut his words off as I began to twirl with him, spinning, feeling my life slip away as we danced without music.

His hand rested on my waist, and I didn't bother to move it. Let him enjoy it, for I will cause him sorrow soon. He was leading now, and we danced around the room in a frenzied tango, becoming faster and faster. He was surely Death, with his terrible face and skeletal frame.

I danced as I felt my chest begin to seize, and my breath became harder and harder to draw. I danced as I saw flashes of my life; holding Father's hand as he lay dying, my first encounter with the Angel, singing the part of Margarita in Faust, and finally, Raoul and I sitting under the Apollo's lyre, our lips meeting in a moment of pure ecstasy that would never be matched…

And my vision went dark, but I was still swirling around, dancing, for my feet were still moving… And Erik was calling, no, screaming, my name, over and over…

I had danced with Death himself, and he had surely claimed me.

A/N: This got deleted by accident a while back, so I reposted it. Please review!


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